


The One with the Elevator

by sexyvanillatiger



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Barebacking, Elevator Sex, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Trapped In Elevator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-20
Updated: 2014-09-20
Packaged: 2018-02-18 01:48:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2330774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sexyvanillatiger/pseuds/sexyvanillatiger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Despite Peter's frustration with Stiles, the only thing that ever comes from broken-down elevators is semi-public sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The One with the Elevator

The elevator rumbles a bit, giving two last, dying lurches, and then it stops. Stiles, in the corner of the elevator, has his hands in his pockets and is doing a very good job of not looking up from his shoes. Peter, in the center, has his hands curled into fists and his head tilted back, taking long, audible breaths. Stiles opens his mouth to say something, but Peter has him pinned to the wall before he can.

"How many times do we have to do this?" Peter asks, face as to close to Stiles' as he can get without kissing him. Too close for Stiles, who can't really see Peter's teeth like this, a view that he likes to maintain when Peter gets angry. "How many times do you have to ignore me, how many times do we have to get into situations like _this_ before you start _trusting me_?"

Stiles flinches away but does not break eye contact, staring defiantly back. Peter's gaze is chilled, like he could take Stiles' throat out of his body and not bother to think about it until their next anniversary. Stiles hates that look.

"Stiles." Peter's voice breaks Stiles out of his detachment, and his eyes snap into focus. Peter's face is calm, eerie, and Stiles mouth feels dry all of the sudden. "Please tell me what I told you when we were on the phone earlier."

"Come home," Stiles says without intonation, staring levelly into Peter's eyes. "Something is in town and it's not safe to be out."

"Very good. Do you remember what I said is in town?"

Stiles hadn't really been listening. He shakes his head and Peter makes a soft noise in his throat, as though to say _I didn't think so_. His almost benevolent facade seems to be thawing, the look in his eyes getting darker and darker.

"This can't keep happening," he finally says, and the way he says it sounds something like _God, we're just gonna have to kill him_. Stiles doesn't even think before he slides down, out of Peter's grasp. Down to his knees. Peter's eyes follow him, narrowed, displeased and pleased all at once. Stiles looks at him only briefly before fixing his eyes on the jeans in front of him. He undoes them and doesn't look back up. Doesn't need to see Peter's face to know that when he swallows him down to the base, Peter's eyes are closed and his mouth is open and his throat is working silently. This is instinct, now.

Stiles pulls back and gives the head a languorous suck. He wants to take it down his throat, get his nose up against Peter's skin and hair and the smooth slide of that cock down his maw. But he can't. Peter's got a fist in his hair, holding him back, only letting him close enough to rub his lips against the very tip.

"I could have lost you," Peter says then, brow raised, like he's asking _how 'bout that?_. Very intentionally expressionless, but Stiles has always been able to see right through that. Stiles feels this horrible sound welling up in his throat and he wishes he had the strength to stop it from coming out. He doesn't, though. He's not sure if he scrambles to his feet or if Peter pulls him there, but what's more important is that they're kissing, desperately, lips loving each other, hands can't stay still, taking clothes and hair and body into their palms.

"Stiles," Peter moans and Stiles just sucks at his neck, not wanting to say anything. Peter gets him like this sometimes. "Stiles, turn around."

Peter has to say it two more times before Stiles will actually let go of Peter and obey him. He puts his forearms on the metal wall of the elevator, resting his head on them. Peter takes care of his pants. Pushes them down just enough to reveal his ass and kicks his legs out as far as they'll go. Stiles stiffens, too excited for this. Peter, on his knees behind him, tonguing him. Grabbing Stiles by his hips before he can even be shocked into movement. So when Stiles jumps, he can feel the bone against bone grate of Peter holding him still.

"Fuck, yes," he says when he gets his wits together. "Peter," he moans, letting himself fall open in any way he can, letting Peter in the way he's learned how to do, the way he has to know how to do, because Peter is going to take him right here, up against the elevator wall, and they're both going to fucking love it.

"Do you need me to stretch you?"

Stiles scoffs, gets a deserved spank for it. " _Yes_."

Peter's wet finger sliding into him is his only answer. Peter sliding in two and three fingers, too quickly, Stiles takes it all. Pushes back against him, begging for more knowing that he shouldn't. Knowing that they should slow down, should wait to get home, they're in a _fucking elevator_. These things probably have _cameras_. Stiles shudders feverishly at the idea of somebody watching this later.

But the feeling of Peter sliding up behind him, cock pressing against his hole without any intention of thrusting forward, only waiting for Stiles to push back, mounting by himself. Stiles loves that feeling. He never even says anything about it because of how badly he would be lying if he told Peter anything less than that he lives for this feeling. For Peter to make him feel used while he's doing the using.

Stiles pushes back slowly, persistently, until Peter's hips are flush against his backside. He doesn't move for a really long time, isn't really ready for Peter to move when he does, but okay. _Okay_. Yes. Fuck, "Peter, fuck, yes," he gasps, Peter's rhythm becoming constant, becoming the rock, the anchor, the best fucking sex of Stiles' young life. He tilts his head back, letting Peter mouth at his neck and the small part of his shoulder exposed by his rucked shirt, but mostly implying that he wants a kiss.

Peter gives it to him, fangs and all. Pounding harder, coming close to the border of what Stiles can and can't take. Stiles thumps at the wall to say _enough_ without breaking his mouth away from Peter's. The message goes through, but only barely. Peter still pushing him to his very limits. Stiles would be lying if he tried to say he didn't love that, too.

Peter comes first. Stiles is surprised by it, gasping at the feeling of Peter pushing in too deep, and staying there. He looks back over his shoulder, barely catching a glimpse of where their bodies come together, and then he looks up at Peter, eyes still closed, lip still tucked behind a feral row of white teeth. Stiles watches him come down from it. Peter doesn't pull out, just rolls his hips so that Stiles can feel movement inside of him. Takes his arousal into his hand and jerks him the way he knows Stiles loves.

"Yes, yes, I'm gonna come," Stiles grunts, voice coming in short fragments from a deep part of his throat. The closer he gets, the less he can say. He finally just does, just _goes_ , feels it as deep as Peter is, all the way out to where Peter is pushing gentle kisses to the back of his neck. He leans entirely against the wall now, and Peter rests entirely against him.

"Stiles," Peter says after a long moment. "I understand your distrust for me." Stiles makes a noise as though to interrupt him, but Peter talks over him, "I _do_. But until I can prove to you that I will only ever have your best interest at heart," and here, he works a hand through Stiles' hair. Not pulling or tugging, just playing. Comforting. That and a kiss, quietly behind his ear. Stiles closes his eyes and almost believes he could feel totally safe in Peter's arms one day. "Until I can prove that to you, _please_ listen to me when I tell you there's danger."

Stiles nods. This is the talk Peter wanted to have, but was too angry to articulate. Peter squeezes his arms around him.

"You need to understand. I refuse to lose anyone else."


End file.
